Late Night Coffee
by Fukase
Summary: Working late nights at a coffee shop can be peaceful but often gets boring. The unexpected makes it interesting.


The monotonous ticking of the seconds hand droned on within the dimly lit coffee shop. Fukase had just cleaned up most of his work area and stared at the wall clock as time seemed to have dilated. The time was 11:37, and he had a little over 20 minutes before the café was scheduled to close for the night.

Sometimes he wondered why the manager chose such an odd hour to close shop, but he didn't mind it so much since working the night hours was much more peaceful. Fukase was more than willing to work the late hours since not many people would go for coffee at night, which meant less annoying customers to deal with. However, he was frequently bored with nothing to do.

He glanced at his watch to see if time had moved; the numbers "11:38" displayed in a dull grey, as if to emulate the repetitive ambiance. Frowning, Fukase figured he should keep busy by cleaning the lobby once more since it was unlikely someone else would use it. During a brief scan of the area, Fukase shifted his focus over to the only customer still sitting around at the far end of the shop. He didn't quite remember when the man had come in, but he surmised it was hours ago—when there were far more customers to keep track of.

The man had his hands buried into his messy blonde hair as he sat hunched over his laptop at one of the tables by the window. Although his face wasn't too visible in the distance and dimness, he appeared distressed but caused no trouble—to Fukase's relief.

Since the closing hours approached, Fukase debated on whether he should warn the customer of the remaining time. With some reluctance, he sighed and walked over to where the man was. "Excuse me, sir," Fukase began softly, unsure if he was interrupting. "I would like to inform you that there is about 20 minutes until we close."

The customer looked up and repositioned himself to sit upright. He had an eyepatch over his left eye and appeared around the same age as Fukase. "Oh, sorry. I suppose you want to finish work early, so I'll leave if you want." He grabbed his bag on the chair next to him to begin packing up.

"Ah, no. There's still time so you can stay until then." Fukase waved his hand dismissively. He didn't want to seem as if he was aggressively suggesting the man to leave.

"Well, if you insist. You can still tell me to leave whenever." He continued to keep his gaze on the redhead.

Fukase glanced at the man's laptop. "So, what are you writing?" He asked, hoping to take the attention off himself.

"I'm trying to work on my novel," the blonde answered, "but as you can see, I'm dealing with that pesky writer's block."

"Ah, so you're a novelist?" Fukase asked with a hint of curiosity.

"I'm actually a freelance writer, but I'd like to get my first novel published. It's not easy being a writer, either way." He leaned back on his chair and chuckled half to himself. "I thought I'd be able to focus better away from home, and this was the only coffee shop that stays open so late. My most creative moments are at night, so here I am."

"I see. So that's why you're here at such an odd hour." Fukase shifted his gaze at the blonde's empty coffee cup. "Would you like another cup of coffee? Free of charge, of course."

The blonde blinked in disbelief. "That'd be nice, but is that really okay with you?"

"No other customers are coming in anyways, and there's still some coffee in the machine. Baristas get to keep the remaining coffee, and I'm pretty tired of drinking the leftovers by now," Fukase explained.

"Oh, sure. Thanks—" He paused and squinted at the redhead's name tag. "—Fukase."

Fukase went back behind the counter and filled a new cup of coffee. Once he was done, he noticed that time passed by unexpectedly and it was nearly time to shut down. As he handed the blonde the cup, he said, "I'm sorry, but it's almost time to close up for the night. Thank you for visiting."

"Thanks for the coffee and for letting me stay so long." The blonde took a sip of the drink and packed his belongings. As he was about to leave, he grinned and briefly glanced back at the redhead. "By the way, my name is Oliver. I wouldn't mind coming back again tomorrow." He then waved without looking back as he exited the premises.

Fukase smiled to himself—pleased that he met such a pleasant customer and had an interesting encounter. He hoped that Oliver would visit again but didn't keep his hopes up in case it was an empty gesture. In retrospect, Fukase thought it was a bold, uncharacteristic move for him to strike up a conversation with a customer; nevertheless, he was gratified that he had done so.

* * *

The next night, the shop was busier than the day before. Fukase had seemingly endless orders to keep track of, so he didn't have time to ponder on Oliver's whereabouts. Once the crowd dissipated, he sighed, glad to have some respite. His expression brightened when he noticed the familiar blond with the eyepatch; he didn't expect Oliver to come again, so it was a pleasant surprise.

Like the previous night, Fukase once again offered Oliver a free cup of coffee once he determined that it was late enough that no other customers would come in. The two spent some time chatting away, effectively speeding through the formerly boring hours of work.

This procedure continued for all the nights that the redhead worked. Fukase wasn't one to talk much about himself, so he spent much of that time listening to Oliver. He learned some interesting things about the blond—such that Oliver graduated from the university that Fukase currently attended and that he had a goldfinch named James—and enjoyed the slow times he had at his job. Fukase wasn't sure if Oliver actually visited during his days off, but he was grateful for his loyal patronage. He assumed that the blond came around this time of night out of convenience rather than to accompany him specifically.

About two weeks into the routine, Fukase was told unexpectedly that he was to switch to the morning shift the day after. The manager had decided to change the store hours to close earlier, and they were understaffed during the day. Fukase's thoughts immediately darted back to Oliver and how they wouldn't be able to spend time again as they had before. He suppressed his frown until his manager left him alone.

Fukase spent the rest of his shift wondering how he was supposed to break the news to his new friend, if he could call him that. With his thoughts muddled, he made several mistakes in his orders but remain unfazed—his only concern being an end to the routine he had so enjoyed.

When the slow hours began again, the two sat down with some coffee once more for a bit of conversation. Oliver happily discussed his progress on his novel but paused when he noticed some tension with Fukase.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Oliver asked. "And don't tell me 'nothing' because your expression makes it obvious there's something going on."

Fukase let out a sigh, finding it difficult to hide his disappointment. "This is the last night we can just sit around and talk like this." He paused to gauge the blond's reaction. "My manager changed the business hours so I'll be working the morning shift starting tomorrow."

"Oh, that's a shame. I really enjoyed these moments." Oliver leaned back and took a sip of his coffee. "So, this really is the last night, huh?"

"Yes, I'm sorry for the short notice. I was only told about this today," Fukase said as he averted his gaze.

"I guess I'll be changing my sleep schedule then." Oliver chuckled. "It won't be the same ambiance, but I'll still be here anyways."

Fukase stared back at the blond, surprised. "Really? I thought you said you preferred to write during the night." A warm, fuzzy sensation swirled in his mind.

"You know, you're quite interesting. Just talking to you sometimes inspires me to write." Oliver leaned forward and handed Fukase his phone. "I'd like to meet with you sometimes out of work, so let's exchange numbers."

Fukase eagerly entered his contact information on the device; Oliver had done the same with the redhead's phone. Once the exchange was done, it was near closing hours so their conversation was cut short.

"Hey, Fukase," Oliver spoke up once he finished packing his bag. "Want to go for some lunch on your day off? My treat, since you're always giving me coffee," he said, smile apparent in his tone of voice.

"Sure, if that's okay with you," Fukase responded.

Oliver grinned as he started to leave. "Alright, it's a date! See you then."

Before Fukase could process it, the blond had already left. "It's a date," he said to himself in a low whisper. He smiled as he kept his gaze where Oliver had sat.


End file.
